


An Exercise in Wanting

by Winnywriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Friendship, M/M, Sexually Frustrated Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winnywriter/pseuds/Winnywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is distracted. Balthazar doesn't help, until he does.</p>
<p>"What you need, Cassie, in the most gentle of terms, is to get laid."</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Exercise in Wanting

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place just after 6x10 (Caged Heat).

Castiel finds him in a bar in New Mexico chatting up a buxom redhead, who’s pouring him a scotch on the rocks and sliding it to him from behind the counter. Balthazar ignores it, instead running his finger across the rim of the glass and saying something to her that makes her grin at him, and he shoots her a familiar smirk. It makes Castiel roll his eyes a bit, but a warm sort of fondness swells in his chest at the same time; perhaps it stems from the fact that the familiar is comforting.  
  
He knows Balthazar senses him there before he even approaches, but he doesn’t turn when Castiel pauses beside him, resting a hand on the counter. He finally lifts the glass to his mouth and takes a sip before saying, “Come to drown your troubles, Cassie? You know they can swim.”  
  
Castiel purses his lips and sits beside him. “I didn’t come to drown anything,” he says. Balthazar arches his eyebrows and hums thoughtfully, swallowing back another sip of scotch. He looks up at the bartender again -- Castiel reads from the nametag over her left breast that her name is Emily -- and smiles.   
  
“Mind getting another for my friend here, darling? On me.” He glances at Castiel, as if expecting him to turn it down, but Castiel says nothing, and Emily says, “Sure thing” with a sly grin before pouring a drink for him and sliding it across the polished wood of the bar. She leans much farther than she needs to in order to reach him, he notices.  
  
She winks at him, and Castiel grabs the glass and downs its contents, ignoring the harsh burn and rough taste. Balthazar’s eyebrows spike upward in genuine surprise and he blinks at Castiel before chuckling. “Sure...you’re obviously not trying to drown anything at all.”  
  
Castiel grinds the glass against the counter and stares down at the grain of the wood. “There’s a war on, Balthazar,” he says under his breath.   
  
“And does your grand battle plan hinge on you getting drunk?”  
  
“I didn’t come to drink.”  
  
Balthazar glances down at Castiel’s empty glass before humming, “Mmhm,” and he whistles, gesturing toward Castiel. Emily returns a moment later, casting a questioning, are-you-sure-you-want-to-do-that glance at Balthazar. “Rough day,” he says sweetly, and she shrugs, topping Castiel off. This time, Castiel watches the liquid pour over the ice cubes instead of looking up at her, barely nodding his thanks as she leaves.   
  
“About that war...” Balthazar glances at the glass as Castiel raises it to his lips, sipping it. “Going rather poorly, I’d assume?”  
  
“That’s an understatement,” Castiel says around the burn of the alcohol. “Which you would know if you were willing to show the slightest bit of loyalty and help me.” He sends a hard gaze Balthazar’s way, and it doesn’t faze him in the least.  
  
Balthazar shrugs. “Self-preservation, Cassie.”  
  
“Cowardice,” Castiel corrects.  
  
“Different words for the same thing, sometimes.” Castiel merely grunts and swallows back the remainder of his drink, letting out a hissing breath. “Did you come to drag my tail back upstairs then? Should I expect handcuffs?”  
  
Castiel sighs and puts his glass down. “No.”  
  
“Damn.”  
  
Balthazar finishes off his own drink, and they sit, staring at their empty glasses. Finally, Castiel says, “I came for advice.”  
  
“Never mix the grape and the grain. Also, never pay a prostitute up front if you can help it.”  
  
“ _Balthazar_...”  
  
Balthazar grimaces. “Oh, you’ve got your serious face on.” He sighs. “You’re going to try and talk to me, aren’t you? The kind of talk that leaves you sore later, and not in a good way.”  
  
Castiel stares at him, and Balthazar trails his finger across the rim of his empty glass. “Fine...The doctor is in, Cassie. What is it?” When Castiel’s gaze falters, and he stares down at the counter again, biting the inside of his cheek, Balthazar leans down to try and catch his eye, the slightest hint of worry tinting his expression. “Cas?”  
  
“The war is not...going well, Balthazar. We’re losing...”  
  
“So you’ve said.”  
  
Castiel glances over at Emily, who’s serving another customer at the other end of the bar. “I’ve been spending more time on Earth than I should. I’ve been...running away.”  
  
“And of course I have _no idea_ how _that_ feels,” Balthazar says. Castiel leans forward, wrapping his fingers around the cool glass and resting his elbows on the edge of the counter.   
  
“I need to focus,” he says finally, squinting. “I’m becoming...distracted.”  
  
Balthazar looks pointedly at Emily, hiding a ghost of a smirk before repeating, “Distracted?” Castiel nods. “How so?”  
  
Castiel shifts uncomfortably, his gaze again being drawn over at the woman behind the bar; she is quite attractive, as far as women go, with an appealing hourglass figure, rosy cheeks and bright eyes. But it’s not _Emily_ that renders Castiel somewhat entranced; rather it’s what she represents to him in that moment, and what Meg represented not so long before: desire, hot and physical, and growing far too difficult to push away. It simmers somewhere in his gut that he can’t pinpoint, and he blinks when Balthazar leans into his field of vision again, looking obnoxiously amused.  
  
“Distracted,” he says, as if it’s suddenly clicked without Castiel explaining a single thing to him. “I think I see where you’re going with this, Cassie.” He grins, which makes Castiel furrow his brow in annoyance.  
  
“It’s my vessel,” he says, tamping the feeling down as he always has. “I’ve never had trouble suppressing human urges like this before. Hunger, thirst, libido...they’ve never been a problem, but there are some that are so deeply ingrained from so many years of evolution that I think they might be...emerging again.” Castiel suddenly wishes his glass weren’t empty.  
  
“Then _don’t_ suppress them,” Balthazar says with a chuckle. “God knows you’ve always been wound tighter than a piano string. Being sexually frustrated can hardly be helping that, on top of everything else.”  
  
“Exactly,” Castiel spits. “I shouldn’t be sidetracked by this. I need to find a way to push these...” His shoulders slump, and he sighs. “...these _urges_ from my mind.”  
  
“What you _need_ , Cassie, in the most gentle of terms, is to get laid.”  
  
“I don’t _need_ to-”  
  
“Anything else I can get for you tonight?” It’s Emily, leaning over the counter again, and Castiel sets his jaw, sitting up straight in his chair. He doesn’t miss the sly grin Balthazar sends his way, and he resists the urge to glare at him.  
  
He stands, heading for the door after replying stiffly, “No. Thank you.”  
  
He hears Emily let out an indignant huff, and Balthazar tells her to keep the change when he pays for the drinks. Castiel stalks down the sidewalk outside, shrugging off the cold as he goes, and he pointedly ignores Balthazar when he comes running up behind him, only stopping and turning when a rough hand presses against his shoulder.  
  
“What was that?”  
  
“What was what?” Castiel asks tiredly, and Balthazar rolls his eyes.  
  
“Oh, come now, Cassie. I don’t care if you the 40 million-year-old virgin, you can’t be _that_ oblivious.” Castiel stares at him. “That pretty young thing was practically undressing you with her eyes. All you would have had to do was ask her when she got off her shift, and your _problem_ would have been gone.”  
  
Castiel turns from him, grumbling bitterly, “I thought _you_ were hoping to ask her that.”  
  
He can practically hear Balthazar roll his eyes as he starts walking again, his pace quick to keep up with Castiel’s swift gate. “She was barely even looking at me the minute you walked in. Only had eyes for your younger model-” Castiel stopped, spinning on his heels, fists clenched.  
  
“I wasn’t interested. I’m _not_ interested.”  
  
Balthazar huffs, “ _You’re_ the one who showed up asking me how to quell your raging hormones, Cassie.”  
  
“And obviously I was mistaken in thinking I could rely on you for any sort of real advice,” Castiel spits. He begins to walk away again, and this time Balthazar doesn’t follow him. He knows that if he stops and turns, Balthazar will be waiting for him, hands in his pockets, smirking at him knowingly. He won’t stop. He won’t turn around. He won’t.  
  
He stops.  
  
He turns around, and he finds he’s right about everything except the smirk.   
  
Slowly, Balthazar approaches him again, sighing. “Sometimes I forget just how far up your backside that stick is crammed.” Castiel frowns at him. “Cassie, Cassie, Cassie...talk to your old friend, will you? What on earth happened to make you so bitter toward the pleasures of the flesh, hm?”  
  
“I’m not bitter,” Castiel says. He considers telling Balthazar about the thoughts that crop up in his mind and thinks better of it. Then he says anyway, “I’ve never...”  
  
“Had occasion?” Balthazar mimics, making his voice deep and gruff much like Castiel’s.   
  
“No, that’s not it,” Castiel says, and he resolves never to admit that it’s somewhat satisfying to see the expression of surprise on his friend’s face.   
  
“Then what the bloody hell did you do to fuck it up?”  
  
“It’s not important.” Castiel turns again, and this time, Balthazar reaches out to tug at his arm, stopping him.   
  
When Castiel looks at him again, Balthazar’s expression is one of intense determination with a tinge of irritation. “Cas,” he says. “I’ll say it again, you’re the one that came to me, remember?”  
  
“I know,” Castiel sighs. He’s beginning to regret it.  
  
“And you dragged me away at the start of what could very well have turned into quite the nice evening.”  
  
“Nobody said you had to follow me.”  
  
Balthazar rolls his eyes. “Oh, of _course_ I did, Cas. I’m a persistent bastard, remember? Now come on, tell me all your dirty little secrets. Or...not so dirty as the case may be. And we can have a good laugh about it later.”  
  
“I don’t have time for a laugh, Balthazar.”  
  
“Well if that’s not the most depressing thing that’s ever come out of your mouth, I don’t know what is.”  
  
They stand in the middle of the deserted sidewalk in silence, Castiel staring out at the road with a frown tugging at his lips. Balthazar, for once, waits patiently, eying him until Castiel finally speaks again: “When Dean found out I was a virgin, he took me to a whorehouse.”  
  
Balthazar fights to keep a straight face and fails magnificently. “And how did that go?”  
  
“Her name was Chastity,” Castiel says with no small measure of distaste.  
  
“I didn’t ask what her _name_ was, Cas. I asked how it went.”  
  
Castiel looks him dead in the eye and simply says, “I made her angry. She ran away.”  
  
Balthazar’s exuberant laughter echoes down the block.   
  
“I take it you left still as pure as a Spring breeze, then?” he asks after a moment, wiping his eye with the back of his hand.  
  
Castiel sets his jaw and stares down at a crack in the concrete beneath his feet. “Yes.”  
  
“Cassie,” Balthazar says, slinging an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, “Only you could manage to keep your virginity while surrounded by prostitutes.” He dissolves into laughter again, his frame shaking against Castiel’s.  
  
“I’m trying to be serious, Balthazar,” Castiel chastises, and Balthazar’s eyebrows arch upward.  
  
“So am I, naturally.”  
  
“I barely have a chance in this war as it is. If I keep being hindered by my vessel’s cumbersome evolutionary drives, that chance will more than likely drop to nothing.”  
  
“Well a bit of porn never hurt, you know,” Balthazar suggests, and Castiel’s gaze drops to their shoes again.   
  
“It only made things...” He takes a breath, regretting ever initiating this conversation in the first place. “...worse.”  
  
Balthazar grins, but does his best to wipe it from his face before letting his arm drop from Castiel’s shoulders. “Well knowing you, it probably just made you feel some sort of Catholic school guilt or something.”  
  
Castiel shakes his head. “It was actually quite fascinating.”  
  
“Well that explains it...If you’re going to dissect it like a preserved frog, then of course it’s not going to help.” He chuckles. “Cas, I swear if you don’t find some sort of outlet soon you’re going to snap and start...shoving random strangers against walls or something.”  
  
Castiel’s eyes go wide. He looks pointedly away and flexes his fingers, turning from Balthazar again.   
  
“Oh please tell me you didn’t, Cas,” Balthazar groans.  
  
“She kissed me first,” Castiel mumbles.  
  
“Well who was the lucky female then?” Castiel is silent. “Oh come on, Cassie. I guarantee there’s nothing you can say that will surprise me. Unless it was...oh, I don’t know, Scarlett Johansson or something.”  
  
He makes a point of not looking at Balthazar when he says, “It was Meg.” He can practically _hear_ Balthazar’s jaw drop.  
  
“Meg...” Balthazar repeats. “You mean that demon, Meg?” Castiel nods, daring to glance back at him, and Balthazar grimaces. “Well...I suppose you could have done quite a bit worse.”  
  
“It’s not like I _wanted_ to kiss her,” Castiel spits. “It just...happened.”  
  
“And was this before or after the porn?”  
  
“After.”  
  
“Well...” Balthazar rocks back on his heels. “That explains that a bit at least.”  
  
“It explains nothing,” Castiel says, facing him. “It excuses nothing, and it certainly doesn’t help me.”  
  
“And do you know what would?”  
  
“What?” The word doesn’t quite leave Castiel’s mouth, because Balthazar has pushed forward and pressed grabbed the lapel of his coat in one hand and wrapped his other around the back of his neck. His mouth is hot and rough against Castiel’s own, and before Castiel even realizes what’s going on, he finds himself kissing back. Just like he had with Meg, he feels himself reeling out of control, like he’s not in command of his own limbs, and when Balthazar lets his tongue skim across his bottom lip, Castiel _moans_ before he can choke the sound back. His arms wrap around Balthazar’s shoulders, holding him tight as his fingers rake over the other angel’s spine, and there’s heat pooling in his belly, heavy and tight, and all too terrifyingly familiar.  
  
He flattens his palm between Balthazar’s shoulder blades, holding him there, losing himself in the feeling of Balthazar’s rough skin against his cheek and jaw and lips, and in the hot, sweet rush of his breath. It only takes a brief moment of awareness for him to realize what’s happening, and for him to push against Balthazar’s chest. They stare at each other, breathlessly, and Castiel sways on his feet, the hot, off-kilter feeling coiling deep in his abdomen feeding back through his veins, making his heart race.  
  
Castiel reaches up and wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. “Why did you do that, Balthazar?” he asks, and he finds his voice is rough than usual, grating over his words.  
  
Balthazar merely shrugs. “Just showing you what you seem so keen to throw away, Cassie.”  
  
“You shouldn’t have done that.”  
  
“Why not? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten coy in your old age.” He takes a step toward him, and Cas takes one back. Balthazar’s grin falters, but then he scoffs, “Are you really that afraid of what’s between your legs?”  
  
Castiel glares at him.   
  
“I’m not afraid,” he insists, taking a step toward Balthazar with his hands clenched into fists. “I am not coy, and I am not naive, Balthazar. And you have no idea what is best for me, or for anyone but yourself.”  
  
He turns from Balthazar, taking a breath to keep his voice level. “I shouldn’t have come to you. It was a mistake to believe you could ever put aside your own selfishness to help someone who you once considered a friend.”  
  
He disappears with a beat of his wings.  
  


* * *

  
Castiel finds him in a hotel room some time later, and when he arrives Balthazar is nursing a bottle of something alcoholic while he flicks a pen back and forth between his fingers. He doesn’t look up at him, though Castiel knows he’s aware of his presence, and the light from the desk lamp providing the only illumination in the room casts deep shadows in the creases on his face.   
  
Castiel stands silent for several long moments before sighing and saying, “This is very...different from what I always imagined you did with your free time.”  
  
Balthazar lets out a clipped, halfhearted laugh. “Even I have my slow nights, Cassie.” He glances over at him. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I thought you’d be harder to find,” Castiel says, and he cocks an eyebrow. “Times like this, you should take more precautions.” Balthazar merely chuckles and takes another drink. “Drinking again?”  
  
“Like I said, slow night.” He cants his head to one side, wordlessly asking if Castiel would like any. Castiel sits on the edge of the bed beside him, taking the glass when Balthazar offers and swallowing its contents back.   
  
It takes him a long time to say, “I’m sorry,” and when he does, Balthazar holds up a hand.  
  
“You shouldn’t be. If anything, I should be...” He trails off, and Castiel feels a ghost of a smile playing at his lips.  
  
“Balthazar...” he says. “It’s not like you to apologize.”  
  
“Oh, I _know_ ,” Balthazar says with a grimace. “Believe me, I know. But maybe I...overstepped.” He refreshes his own drink, sipping it pensively.  
  
Castiel nods. “You did. But you usually do, Balthazar. And it’s nothing I can’t handle.”  
  
“For which I am eternally grateful.” Balthazar chuckles, and Castiel puts his glass down, folds his hands in his lap, hunching over. They sit in silence, but it’s comfortable.   
  
Finally, Castiel speaks again: “What you said...about me needing to learn to deal with these...” He sighs. “...urges...”  
  
Balthazar arches an eyebrow at him, chuckling fondly. A clever retort seems to wither on the tip of his tongue, and he gestures for Castiel to continue.   
  
“I think...you may have been right.”  
  
“Oh?” He seems genuinely surprised, and Castiel nods, staring down at his hands as he opens them, palms up.  
  
“Before, when the problem was minimal, I could ignore them, but...it just doesn’t feel doable anymore. I can’t ignore anything that could jeopardize my usefulness given the situation I’m in now, so that only leaves the option of dealing with it.”  
  
Balthazar laughs softly and plants a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Cassie, that has to be the...noblest reason I’ve ever heard anyone give for wanting to get laid.” He finishes off the last of his drink and places the glass next to Castiel’s. “But you don’t need me for that, Cas...Go out and take life by the throat. Ah...metaphorically, of course. Unless you happen to find somebody who’s fond of that sort of thing. Everything’s worth trying once.”  
  
Castiel looks up and says thoughtfully, “Yes, I suppose,” before pressing his mouth to Balthazar’s.  
  
It’s soft, almost hesitant, and afterward, when Castiel pulls away and notices the galloping pace of his borrowed heartbeat, he resolves never to admit to the thrilling sense of satisfaction he gets from Balthazar’s stunned expression. Balthazar blinks at him, lips still lightly parted, before asking, “What was that for?”  
  
“I went back to the bar,” Castiel says instead of answering, and Balthazar’s eyebrows arch even higher.   
  
“Oh?”  
  
“I spoke to Emily.”  
  
Balthazar smirks a bit, knowingly. “So what in Christ’s name are you doing here?”  
  
Castiel ignores the blasphemy and says, “I was distracted.”  
  
“Distracted from your distraction?”  
  
“Just...distracted.” Castiel finds himself leaning a little closer, suddenly wanting to touch him. Balthazar’s hand wanders, grasping Castiel’s wrist gently and tugging it until it’s resting on his thigh.   
  
He looks at Castiel with half-lidded eyes that are fogged over by something that Castiel finds both familiar and foreign at the same moment, and he says, on a soft exhale, “And that’s _my_ fault, now, is it?”  
  
There’s no need to lie, so Castiel just says, “Yes.”  
  
Balthazar leans in close, resting his hand just next to Castiel’s knee so that his fingers brush against the fabric of his pants, and a shiver runs up his spine as Balthazar asks, “What do you want, Cas?”  
  
“You already know,” Castiel points out, and he’s not sure if the urge he’s fighting is one to push forward or lean away. “You’re the one who keeps telling me.”  
  
Maybe it’s guilt that he sees flash through Balthazar’s eyes, but he isn’t entirely sure. He swallows back a sudden wave of anxiety and glances at the floral-patterned carpet. “I’ve always heard that when one is going to...lose one’s virginity...” He says the words with no small amount of distaste; he’s never bothered putting much stock in the whole concept anyway, and memories or earlier attempts invade his mind, but he continues, “It’s best to do so with somebody one trusts.”  
  
Balthazar is silent, and Castiel can’t quite tell if he’s trying to suppress a bought of very ill-timed laughter, or if he’s simply too shocked to speak. Evidently, it may be a bit of both, because he speaks with what can only be qualified as a _giggle_ when he asks, “Cassie, just so we’re on the same page, are you asking me to...pop your cherry?”  
  
Castiel furrows his brow. “I never liked that phrase.”  
  
“Fair enough,” Balthazar chuckles.  
  
“But I suppose...yes.”  
  
Balthazar smirks, teasing him gently: “Whatever happened to trying to suppress those unseemly human urges?”   
  
“I _can’t_ ,” Castiel says irately. “I tried, and the longer I try, the worse it becomes. I can’t afford any distractions, Balthazar. I just want to deal with what must be dealt with and be _done_ with it.”   
  
Suddenly, Balthazar frowns, not advancing any further, and Cas huffs angrily and grabs the other angel’s hand, moving it up his thigh toward his groin. Balthazar jerks his hand away, as if the touch burned him, and Castiel shoots him a subdued glare.   
  
All Balthazar says is, “No.”  
  
Castiel blinks at him, frustration and anger and confusion and worry all mixing together in his gut along with a myriad of other things he can’t name. He cants his head to one side, looking at Balthazar questioningly, wondering what it was that he’s done wrong; the fact that he can’t pinpoint a single damn thing only serves to frustrate him more.  
  
So he forces the question from his throat: “Why?”  
  
Balthazar laughs, but it’s a hollow, bitter sound, and tinged with sadness. “Because you don’t _want_ this, Cas.”  
  
“Of course I-” Balthazar shakes his head, cutting him off before standing and walking aimlessly around the hotel room.  
  
“You don’t, love. You want to be rid of the distraction. And you think that this will do it, but it won’t. And something like this...” He sighs. “Cassie, you shouldn’t do this just to have it _done_. You should do it because you _want_ it.”  
  
Castiel wrings his hands, his frustration boiling into anger. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”  
  
“And the fact that you think that is precisely the reason I won’t do this.”   
  
Castiel stands and stalks toward him, and Balthazar remains firmly immovable, staring him down. “You’re a hypocrite,” Castiel spits.   
  
“Not the worst I’ve been called.”  
  
“You’re the one kept insisting I go after the woman at the bar.”  
  
“I know,” Balthazar says calmly.  
  
“ _You_ kissed me.”  
  
“Yes, I did.”  
  
“Then why-”  
  
“Because that was before I realized you apparently put no stock in what _you_ want, you oblivious moron!” Castiel merely stares, and Balthazar pushes him down to sit on the bed again, kneeling before him, his hands planted on Castiel’s arms. “Cassie, I told you, you shouldn’t just want it _done_. You should... _want_ it.”  
  
“Who are you to preach the virtues of chastity?” Castiel asks with a roll of his eyes.   
  
Balthazar chuckles. “Oh, believe me, I know, my friend.”  
  
“Then why are you being so...difficult? You should know better than anyone, it’s just an...an animalistic urge. An evolutionary drive. It’s just _sex_.”  
  
“It’s not sex if you don’t actually want it for the sake of wanting it, Cas. It’s something very different, and that’s a line I won’t cross.” He sighs, standing again. “Call me a hypocrite, and you’d be right, but I’m also much more than that.”  
  
“And what’s that?” Castiel asks, somewhat bitterly.  
  
Balthazar smirks. “A stubborn bastard. And your friend.” His shoulders slump, and his smile fades just the slightest bit. “Cas, if you want to spend the night with Emily the bartender or some pretty young thing on the other side of the counter, I won’t stop you, and I certainly won’t judge you.” His voice is tinged with the slightest bit of melancholy when he says, “But it won’t be me. Not like this.”  
  
Castiel exhales slowly, planting his hands on his knees and pointedly looking anywhere but at Balthazar’s face. Suddenly, he feels all wrong, an odd sort of shame tangling with a strange sense of yearning in his chest.   
  
“But...Cassie.” Castiel looks up when Balthazar addresses him again, sitting beside him. “I told you once before, what you did...stopping the apocalypse, scratching through the ending and writing out your own...You changed things for us, you know. And for yourself too. It’s different now, and you’re allowed to _want_ things.”  
  
Castiel merely stares at him in silence, and Balthazar looks pensive, leaning forward and pressing his palms together in his lap. “I think that’s why you’re feeling this way. It’s not your vessel, Cassie. It’s you.”  
  
“Angels don’t feel sexual desire. Or any desire, other than to serve God.”  
  
“And yet here you are. Wanting.” Balthazar’s gaze is warm and genuine, the smallest of smiles playing on his features. Castiel blinks, and Balthazar sighs, standing up with a soft groan. “You came to me to help, and I bungled it.” His words are not self-pitying; more than that, they are merely a statement of what he seems to see as a fact. “Suppose it’s somewhat your fault for having poor taste in friends, eh?”  
  
Castiel falls silent, thinking, searching through his own mind for some explanation for this feeling that’s twisting in his belly. It _feels_ like the hot throb of arousal, but it’s tainted by something else, something that doesn’t sit quite right alongside it and makes it feel crooked and wrong. And yet still, beyond that, when he looks past the other sensations -- both physical and emotional -- there’s something else: it sits unassumingly behind his sternum, thrumming pleasantly, and when he allows himself to push back the mangled knot that’s lodged itself in his abdomen, he finds it to be rather soothing.   
  
It reminds him of friendship, of loyalty and love; it’s so similar that for a moment he almost thinks that’s what it is, but then he realizes it doesn’t quite fit that description. It’s warmer, more insistent, prodding at him in a way that, while not unpleasant, is difficult to ignore. _That_ certainly reminds him of something else, specifically the reason that he sought out advice in the first place, though perhaps doing so was a mistake in the long run.   
  
He looks up at Balthazar again, a soft, pulsing feeling expanding in his chest. “I don’t,” he says. Balthazar hums questioningly, raising an eyebrow at him. “I don’t have poor taste,” Castiel continues, and he stands. He tries to smile, but it comes out awkward and forced. “I like to think I have rather good taste in friends.”  
  
Balthazar’s smile is genuine. “Well then I’m honored, Cassie.” He gives a mock bow, and when he straightens up, suddenly Castiel finds he can feel Balthazar’s breath on his lips; he inhales deeply and he can smell him: spice and alcohol and the scent of the sea. The warm feeling behind his sternum grows hot, and it dips lower, undoing the knots that have tightened and dug into him with increasing malice over the months. When they’re loosened, and the sensation can flow freely, he’s finally able to name it, and inwardly he feels embarrassed that it took so long.  
  
He _wants_.  
  
He realizes he’s said this out loud when Balthazar leans forward and asks, “Want what?”  
  
Castiel can’t put his answer into words, so he puts it into kisses instead.  
  
It’s a slow, careful advance, almost timid in nature, and Balthazar is still as he proceeds. Balthazar watches him with his eyes half-closed, his lips melding to Castiel’s, but he doesn’t push further. Castiel reaches up, places his hand on Balthazar’s arm, his fingers skimming up to his shoulder.   
  
Castiel pulls away, Balthazar leaning toward him so slightly it’s barely noticeable, and he says, “I’m not sure if you’re right...if it’s truly alright for me to want what I do, or if I’ve simply let you rub off on me enough that I’ve stopped caring either way.” Balthazar smiles at that, and surprisingly enough, Castiel finds himself returning the gesture. “I’m not sure which would unsettle me more.”  
  
Balthazar tilts his head forward, toward him. “Oh, it would be utter blasphemy, Cassie. But for once, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”  
  
Castiel hums in reply, and his hand trails down Balthazar’s arm, grasping his wrist. Balthazar watches the whole way with rapt attention as Castiel guides his hand down over his hip, across his thigh, and...  
  
He bites his lip lightly, and Balthazar’s eyebrows arch upward in a way that Castiel would swear makes him seem downright _impressed_. “I want...” he says again, and this time he finishes the thought: “You.” He sucks in a breath as Balthazar’s palm presses against him. “I don’t just want to be done with it...I don’t want it to be any willing participant I come across. I just...want you.”  
  
“I can already tell that, Cassie,” Balthazar says with a grin. “And what brought about this epiphany, hm?”  
  
“Honestly?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“I think it began when you kissed me.”  
  
Balthazar looks at him questioningly, and Castiel glances down as he says, “I was angry that you did that...at first, but when I thought about it I couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it, and...Well, in all honesty, you only made my... _problem_ that much worse.”  
  
“I’d apologize, you know, but I do tend to have that effect on people,” Balthazar jokes, his hand now skimming up over Castiel’s side, and Castiel misses the contact, a deep ache taking its place where Balthazar’s palm rested before.   
  
“I went back to the bar,” Castiel continues, noticing suddenly how his breath hitches out more heavily around his words. “I couldn’t stand it, and I remembered what you’d said...You were right, I think...Emily seemed very...eager.”   
  
“And rightly so,” Balthazar chuckles. “Honestly, Cas, sometimes I think you forget the attractiveness of your own vessel.”  
  
“Maybe...but as I was talking to her, I couldn’t...she wasn’t...it wasn’t right. It wasn’t what I wanted. And it only made me more angry because I didn’t understand why, so I left, and she didn’t seem happy about it either.” He grimaces, feeling a bit guilty for leaving Emily so rudely, but Balthazar is leaning in again, his lips ghosting over Castiel’s rough jaw. He shivers as he says, “I couldn’t take it. I tried to...on my own, but...”  
  
Balthazar pulls back, looking equal parts aghast and vastly entertained, and Castiel feels the tops of his ears grow red along with his cheeks. “I’m surprised you didn’t figure that bit out sooner,” Balthazar says, and Castiel looks away.  
  
“I said I tried, but it...it didn’t work.”  
  
“Well you were probably doing it wrong,” Balthazar laughs.  
  
“I wasn’t-” His words are cut off by a soft moan when Balthazar presses forward, pushing their hips together, and white hot sensation bursts across his body. Suddenly he’s breathless, his heart pounding in his chest, and he wonders why on earth that is, because neither of those things serve any practical function to him as an angel inhabiting a human body, no matter his state of arousal.  
  
Balthazar’s lips hover just under an inch from his, and he wants -- Lord, he _wants_ to close the distance, but Balthazar speaks again, in a low, breathy voice: "Well you know Cassie, if you want me..." He reaches up fingers brushing against Castiel's arm. "...you have me."  
  
Castiel presses their chests together, feels Balthazar’s heart pounding just as hard as his own, if not harder, and he surges forward, kissing him hungrily. Balthazar’s hands are bold, blazing a hot trail over Castiel’s chest and across his sides, under his coat and suit jacket, and the contact makes Castiel shiver in the best possible of ways. He lets his fingers tangle in Balthazar’s short hair, marveling at the tickling sensation on his palms for a short moment before his attention is drawn elsewhere: Balthazar runs his tongue across his bottom lip, humming against his mouth, and Castiel no longer wants -- he _needs_.  
  
He pushes, blindly, the heat in his belly sending curling tendrils through his limbs and driving him forward until Balthazar’s back thumps against the wall, the desk lamp wobbling in place. Balthazar groans out Castiel’s name in its proper Enochian pronunciation, and the sound of it drags a desperate growl from Castiel’s throat. He only removes his hands from Balthazar to let his coat and suit jacket drop to the floor, and suddenly Balthazar’s hands are on the move again, his fingers fumbling with the buttons digging into his chest.  
  
“Clothes...” Balthazar growls snidely. “Damn whoever invented the blasted things...”  
  
Castiel finds himself grinning. “Eve?” he offers.  
  
“Damn her. Damn her and the snake she rode in on. Or however that story goes...”   
  
Balthazar’s hands are quick and deft, but not nearly fast enough, and Castiel reaches down to aid him by simply ripping his shirt open instead. Several buttons clatter to the floor, rolling away to be lost in dark crevices and cracks, forgotten in seconds, disappearing as quickly as Balthazar’s impressed smirk when Castiel kisses it away.  
  
He claws at the hem of Balthazar’s shirt, his movements inexperienced and clumsy, but insistent, and Balthazar’s chuckle is drowned in a moan as he takes it off himself. Suddenly, the hot, smooth slide of skin against bare skin overwhelms Castiel’s mortal senses, and after he’s let his shirt flutter to the floor to join his jacket and coat, he wraps his arms around Balthazar’s shoulders, hands trailing over every inch of skin he can reach: across his arms, over his shoulder blades, down his spine until his fingers meet Balthazar’s belt. He doesn’t moan then, but instead sighs, a sound coming from a mix of both pleasure and sheer wonder at the feeling. Balthazar kisses across his neck and jaw, their hips undulating together in a rhythm that they seem to have fallen into without even realizing, and he exhales against the shell of Castiel’s ear.  
  
“Balthazar,” Castiel breathes in a voice that seems so far from his own.   
  
“Yes, love?” He punctuates it with a soft, almost chaste kiss against Castiel’s pulse point, and he begins to pull back when Castiel doesn’t answer right away. “Too much?”  
  
“No,” insists Castiel, and he pulls him against him again, more tightly than before. “No...” There are so many things he wants to say in that moment, as he catches a fleeting glimpse of Balthazar’s stormy blue eyes and kiss-swollen lips before the other angel presses his mouth against Castiel’s skin again, licking at the hollow of his neck. The words are stubborn, not coming when summoned, and so Castiel simply takes a lesson from Balthazar and kisses his jaw insistently, saying, “More...”  
  
The reaction he gets is instant and so deeply satisfying that Castiel smirks: Balthazar whines, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s bare shoulders and neck and burying his fingers into his dark hair. He pushes their hips together, an action which Castiel gladly mirrors, and suddenly they’re stumbling over to the bed. The world flips horizontal as Castiel bounces against the mattress, his vision filling with gleaming eyes and a cocky grin as Balthazar crawls over him slowly, red in the face and breathing through slightly parted, glistening lips.   
  
“More of this?” he asks.  
  
Castiel rides the momentum of his boldness and slips his hand down Balthazar’s back, beneath his belt. “More of you,” he says. Balthazar’s smile grows, his gaze warming as he toes off his shoes. He slithers down Castiel’s chest, kissing as he goes, and Castiel arches into his touch, fingers flexing as a magnificent sigh escapes him. He lets his eyes flutter closed as Balthazar reaches the trail of fine hair beneath his naval, and he flinches.  
  
“Ticklish?” Balthazar asks, glancing up at him.  
  
“I’m not-” But Balthazar lets his lips skim over that patch of skin again, and Castiel’s abdominal muscles spasm before he can stop them. He feels Balthazar smirk against him, and he resolves never to offer this information to anyone else for as long as he can help it.  
  
He opens his legs a bit more, and Balthazar sinks down between his thighs, his chest pressing against the growing tightness in Castiel’s groin as he kisses along the leather of his belt. He pulls away, Castiel groaning his disapproval as he does, and he yanks off Castiel’s shoes and socks, tossing them to the floor.  
  
“You’d look ridiculous naked with socks on,” he says.   
  
Castiel arches one eyebrow. “So would you.” Balthazar merely smirks and pulls off his own socks as well, throwing them over his shoulder before bringing their chests flush together again, kissing Castiel deeply and grinding down against him.   
  
Something searing and heavy surges through Castiel’s abdomen when he feels Balthazar’s arousal rutting against his own through the fabric of their clothes, and his eyes snap open, a ragged, breathless groan forcing itself from his throat. His hand makes its way between their bodies, and he tugs at Balthazar’s pants, but Balthazar pulls away again.  
  
He grasps Castiel’s belt, pulling it undone and tossing it away before opening the zipper and sliding them down his legs. Castiel lets him, sighing softly as he finds some relief from the tension in his groin. “You first, Cassie,” Balthazar says as he undresses him. “I’m nothing if not polite to my guests.”  
  
Castiel cocks an eyebrow at him. “Forgive me, but polite is not usually what I imagine when I think of you.”  
  
“Oh? And what do you normally think of me, then, pray tell?”  
  
Castiel shifts his hips against the bedspread as Balthazar crawls up and presses kisses all across the skin of his neck. He slips his hands into Balthazar’s pants again, palms sliding over his thighs as he pushes the clothing down and off of him. Balthazar raises his hips, kicks them off and drags his tongue over Castiel’s Adam’s apple.   
  
“Stubbornness,” says Castiel, the word grinding against the sides of his throat as he does. He feels the other angel chuckle, and Balthazar begins making his way downward again.  
  
“Won’t argue that. Anything else?” He kisses Castiel’s hip bone, and Castiel arches against him.  
  
“More recently, indulgence.”  
  
“Of the highest caliber.” Balthazar deftly hooks his fingers into the hem of Castiel’s boxers, sliding them down at a tantalizingly sluggish pace. His mouth wanders again, so close to Castiel’s over-sensitive flesh that he can _feel_ the heat of it against his erection, and he bites his lip.  
  
He almost can’t get the word out, but as Balthazar slides the final piece of clothing down his legs, Castiel breathes, “Concupiscence,” and Balthazar smirks.  
  
“What an impressive...” He glances pointedly at Castiel’s exposed arousal. “...vocabulary.”  
  
“Arrogance-” Castiel tries to say, but at that moment, Balthazar wraps an insistent hand around Castiel’s erection, and all is lost. Castiel sits bolt-upright, his breath leaving him, and he stares at Balthazar, eyes wide with the shock of the pleasure that jolts through him. His hand flies to Balthazar’s wrist, fingers wrapping around the base of his palm and holding tight.   
  
For a moment, Balthazar stills, and Castiel’s thumb ghosts over his skin. Balthazar looks at him, a tiny smile flitting across his flushed features, and he presses a soft kiss to Castiel’s knuckles before pushing against his chest, bidding him lie back on the bed once more.   
  
Castiel does, his fingers slipping from Balthazar’s wrist as he lies down flat on the bedspread, and he feels a hot exhale against his sensitive skin, making his toes curl in wonder and his heart race. “It looks good on you,” Balthazar says, and when Castiel asks -- without even a conscious thought -- what he means, Balthazar drags his fingers up across Castiel’s skin and replies, “Wanting.”  
  
He wraps his lips around Castiel’s cock just as the word leaves his mouth, and Castiel jerks with the force of the pure sensation that floods through him, heavy and needy. He groans, hips rising up off of the bed, and Balthazar responds by pressing his palms against Castiel’s thighs, pushing him down as he hums quietly.   
  
Balthazar exhales pointedly as he moves downward, taking Castiel so far into his mouth that he vaguely feels himself bump against the back of Balthazar’s throat. Castiel realizes that he’s been holding his breath -- not that it matters -- and it rushes out of him on a desperate, whining moan. His hands find natural purchase in Balthazar’s hair, his fingernails scraping against his scalp. Balthazar reaches up as he pulls back, grasping Castiel’s wrist and trails his thumb across his skin as Castiel had done just moments before. With his other hand, he forms a loose fist around the base of Castiel’s erection and strokes in slow, calculated movements as his tongue drags across the tip.   
  
It’s all too much, and yet it’s not enough. His abdominal muscles tighten, his body chasing something that he feels he’s needed ever since this ache formed in his belly, but that is only now coming within reach. He punctuates every breath with a shaky moan and words that he’s forming without conscious thought; it takes him a moment, but he recognizes Balthazar’s name tumbling from his lips. When it does, the other angel glances up at him, and the gleam in his eye sends Castiel to the edge of some great precipice from which he so desperately wants to drop.  
  
He barely has time to wonder if it’s meant to take longer than it has to reach this point before his breath catches in his throat, his body seizing up and arching off of the bed as a strangled groan wrenches itself from his lungs. He’s burning alive, and yet there is no pain; instead there’s only pleasure that sizzles in his bones and threatens to push at the boundaries of his body until he bursts.  
  
And then...calm. Absolute and divine calm.  
  
The spinning of the world finally slows, and Castiel’s breath, which had been coming in ragged, desperate gasps, rushes out of him all at once. Every muscle in his body, so tense it had almost ached ago in the midst of his ecstasy, relaxes so completely that he thinks he may just sink into the mattress. He stares at the ceiling, blinks a few times, his lips lightly parted in satiation and wonder.  
  
Balthazar crawls up to him again, lying beside him and grinning, and Castiel says, breathlessly, “I think...I’ve sorely underestimated humans’ potential for...” He lets out another breath. “...bliss.”  
  
Balthazar chuckles. “Is that what you’re calling it? Bliss?” He shrugs, turning to lie on his back beside him. “Why am I not surprised you’re waxing poetic in your afterglow, Cassie?” Castiel looks over at him, feeling hunger still stirring in his gut, but a different kind this time; it’s not for himself, but it gnaws at him none the less. He reaches for Balthazar, letting his hand skim down the other angel’s side.  
  
“I want...” he says, and he trails off.   
  
Balthazar’s eyebrows arch upwards in surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re _still_...”  
  
“No,” Castiel says roughly, shaking his head. “No, but I want...” He presses his lips together tightly, rolling over so he’s nearly on top of Balthazar. Balthazar doesn’t protest, but he looks at Castiel curiously.   
  
Castiel leans down to kiss him softly. “I want...to do that for you.”  
  
“You don’t have to,” Balthazar says with a lopsided grin. Castiel shakes his head.  
  
“But I want to. I want to see you undone...” He lets his hand wander, skimming down Balthazar’s stomach, but when he reaches his goal, instead of feeling the hardness he expected there, he finds Balthazar soft, a slight wet patch on the front of his underwear. His brow furrows. “You’re not...”  
  
“I told you,” Balthazar says, reaching down to gently take Castiel’s wrist in his hand and pulling it away. “You don’t have to.”  
  
“You already...”  
  
Balthazar rolls his eyes. “Yes, yes, not a word from you, alright? I told you...you vastly underestimate how ah...shall we say, _provocative_ you can be, Cassie.” He chuckles a bit, and if Castiel didn’t know better, he would say that Balthazar is blushing.  
  
Balthazar nudges Castiel off of him, patting him on the arm as he does, and he slides his underwear off -- “Not fair that you’re the only naked one here, is it?” he says -- and stretches out on the bed. Castiel lets his eyes wander up and down his human form appreciatively, and he supposes that as far as vessels go, Balthazar did choose a very attractive one. If such thoughts are blasphemous, he’s finding it difficult to find the energy to care much at the moment, his mind moving even more sluggishly now than his body.  
  
“Thank you,” he finds himself saying.  
  
“What? For sleeping with you?” Balthazar asks with a laugh.   
  
“For refusing.” Balthazar squints at him. “At first, anyway.”  
  
“You’re...welcome?”  
  
“You were right,” Castiel continues. “I was...I was seeking this for the wrong reasons. Had you given in then, I would have...had regrets.”  
  
“And now?” Balthazar asks, and Castiel swears he can sense a note of real worry in Balthazar’s voice.  
  
“None,” he says, and Balthazar relaxes. “So thank you.”  
  
“Well...you’re very welcome, Cassie.” Castiel stifles a yawn, and Balthazar smiles at him, warmly. “Maybe you should sleep.”  
  
“I think I’d like that,” Castiel says, his eyelids drooping. Balthazar hums softly next to him, and just as he closes his eyes, something makes him cling to consciousness for a moment more. Something else must be said. “Balthazar...”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“The war...is not going well.”  
  
Balthazar groans. “Are you really going to bring up that bloody war in bed, Cas?”  
  
“I’m growing desperate,” Castiel says, ignoring Balthazar’s protests.   
  
“I know,” Balthazar replies, sounding somber now. Castiel looks over at him.  
  
“If I did something no angel has done...something unspeakable...Would you still have such a high opinion of me as you seem to now?”  
  
Balthazar pauses for a long moment. “Cassie...” he says, “I doubt there’s anything you could do that would make me stop caring for you completely.” He laughs, the sound of it catching Castiel off-guard, and he adds, “You could probably run me through, and I’d still love you just the same.”  
  
“I’d never...”  
  
“I know you wouldn’t.” He reaches out, places a hand on Castiel’s chest. His expression is a fond and comforting one. “But the point remains the same.” Castiel sighs and nods, Balthazar’s words somehow making him feel as though somewhat of a weight has been lifted from him.   
  
“Now sleep, Cassie,” Balthazar tells him. “The war will be there in the morning, but for now, just know that no matter what happens, no matter how bad it gets...” He smiles, and he cups Castiel’s face in his palm. “You’ll always have little old me.”  
  
“Yes...” Castiel says, his eyes slipping closed and the smallest ghost of a smile gracing his features as he sighs. “Yes, I’ll always have you.”


End file.
